


the greatest gift of all

by Crowmunculus



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga), No. 6 - All Media Types, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: M/M, an excuse for dick jokes, it's dick jokes all the way down, post-reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 00:44:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4767176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowmunculus/pseuds/Crowmunculus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nezumi attempts a romantic gesture for Shion’s birthday. Mistakes are made.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the greatest gift of all

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to write them being happy and then this happened: dorks making terrible dick jokes before devolving into domestic syrup. No actual sexual content, just puns and innuendo.
> 
> I scribbled this out in four days (which never happens, I’m such a slow writer) so it’s a wordy mess with a rushed ending and the pacing is shit but happy belated birthday, Shion, I give you Nezumi making poor life choices.
> 
> Set an indeterminate number of years after reunion, so Nezumi is more settled in and more openly affectionate and, ultimately, more of the loser nerd he always was under all that emotional baggage.

Most years, Shion managed to have the day off from work on his birthday, but a rainier-than-usual summer led to a disastrous overflow of the archaic combined sewer system in the West Block, meaning Shion’s birthday was, quite literally, full of shit. There was no talking or haggling his way out of it – all Committee members were required to attend the mind-numbing string of planning meetings to discuss mitigation and prevention. 

Nezumi, predictably, was displeased. He’d frowned at Shion throughout his morning routine and looked downright pathetic when Shion gave him one last apologetic glance backward on his way out the door. 

The meeting ran late, and so did the light rail home, and by the time Shion reached their front door he was cranky, exhausted, and wanting nothing more than to collapse into Nezumi’s arms. The lock clicked open, and Shion crossed the threshold and said, “I’m home.” 

No response. Shion closed the door behind himself and sighed. “I’m sorry I’m late,” he said, “Work was a nightmare and the train was held up with some electrical problem. Believe me, I wanted to be home hours ago.” 

Nezumi, wherever he was, remained silent. Maybe he had grown sick of waiting and had gone to bed early without Shion. The thought tugged uncomfortably at Shion’s heart; after all the stresses of the day, Nezumi being that angry would be too much. Everything else had been bearable only because Shion knew Nezumi was at home waiting for him. 

He unbuttoned his work suit while he walked upstairs to the bedroom. The lights were off, but the hall lights illuminated the the room enough to show that the bed was empty. Unless Nezumi was in the bathroom or out of the house altogether, that left the kitchen and dining room area. 

Shion took his suit off and hung it back up in the closet, and stripped out of his undershirt as well to replace it with one of Nezumi’s long-sleeve shirts. It was old and beaten-up and smelled like him, and at least some of Shion’s tension melted away. Even if Nezumi was upset, he wouldn’t be for too long. Shion knew all of his weaknesses and this was not a day where Nezumi was allowed to be sad. 

“The silent treatment solves nothing,” Shion said lightly as he walked back down the stairs and turned the corner into the dining room, “What’s done is done - ” 

“Happy birthday, airhead,” Nezumi mumbled.

Shion willed his mouth to move but it refused, trapped in a slack-jawed gape. Nezumi wasn’t meeting his eyes. He wasn’t wearing any clothing, either, save for a dark red ribbon tied in a messy bow fully over his – “It was a better idea in theory,” Nezumi explained, every inch of exposed skin blushed that same tomato red, “But theory involved you arriving home sooner than _ten the fuck at night._ ” 

The table was fully set for dinner with Macbeth soup, French bread and butter, cherry cake, salad, and wine. Nezumi’s plate of food looked untouched. “...How long have you been sitting here?” 

“Three hours.” 

“You’re joking. You’re not that patient.” 

“I’m stuck,” Nezumi deadpanned. 

“What does that mean?” 

“I’m _stuck_ ,” Nezumi said again, shifting awkwardly in his chair. He probably meant for his scowl to seem menacing, but any malice was outshone by petulance. “I tied the knot too fucking tight. I can’t see it well enough to get it off. It hurts to move. Don’t say a fucking word.” 

Two emotions welled up, overwhelming Shion with their intensity: pure, unfiltered love, and the special form of sadistic, mocking glee reserved for people that loved. He tried to suppress his laughter. He really tried. But Nezumi saw the telltale twisting of his lips and said “Don’t you dare!” with such a scandalized expression that all the love and patience in the world could not have restrained Shion’s howling, unstoppable laughter. “Fuck off, Shion, it’s your fault!”

Inbetween cackles, Shion said, “How is it my fault? I’m not the one who tied your dick up with ribbon.” He kept laughing, barely able to breathe. 

“It’s your fault for being home so late, and because I did this for you!”

“I never asked. I would never have thought of something like this. What made you think I’d find this sexy?” Shion tamed his mirth as best as he was able and dared to look at Nezumi again: Nezumi’s arms were crossed over his chest and he looked so offended, sitting at the kitchen table bare-ass naked save for a strategically-placed bow and pouting through his blush, that Shion descended helplessly into giggles once more. “You call _me_ the weird one.” 

“It was mostly supposed to be a joke,” Nezumi hissed through gritted teeth, “But on _you,_ not on me. You were supposed to arrive home from your long day of discussing raw sewage, exhausted and - ” 

“I did that. That part happened.” 

“Shut up, I’m not done. You were going to arrive home exhausted and mournful that such an important day had been wasted on human waste, and you would walk into the kitchen to find me, your birthday present, presenting you with a nostalgic choice of dinner items and a giftwrapped dessert. I would be suave and seductive, laughing at you and your flustered face while you stuttered through your ‘I’m home.’ That was the plan. The plan did not include me accidentally cutting off the circulation to my fucking dick and could you _please_ get over here and unwrap your gift before an even worse tragedy occurs?” 

“If I have to take you to the hospital, I’ll never forgive you,” Shion said, but it was a lie; he couldn’t stay mad at Nezumi for long, and especially not over blackmail material this embarrassing. He walked over to Nezumi, kissed him once on his forehead, and knelt down to eye level with Nezumi’s satiny hubris. “Did you double-knot this?” 

Shion placed his hands on Nezumi’s knees and Nezumi obediently spread his legs. “It kept coming undone so yes, I did.”

Carefully, Shion moved the loose ends of the bow to the tops of Nezumi’s thighs and out of the way. “That was a sign from the universe telling you to stop. You should have listened.” He found the center of the knot at the base of Nezumi’s lovingly wrapped package and gently teased at it with his fingertips, trying to loosen it. Nezumi winced with every little tug, and it was Nezumi’s own fault but Shion still hated to see Nezumi hurt. “I’m sorry, I’m trying to be gentle.” 

Nezumi grumbled, squirming, but smoothed one hand through Shion’s hair all the same. For all he claimed to be a man of words, Nezumi’s actions spoke more to his true nature. 

Cautious diplomatic negotiations with the ribbon (which claimed several of Nezumi’s pubes as part of the treaty) paid off, and several agonizing minutes later, Nezumi’s dick was freed from its tyrannical hold. “What have we learned?” 

“I’ve learned to never try for a romantic gesture ever again,” Nezumi griped, “You don’t appreciate it properly.” 

Shion kissed the bony jut of Nezumi’s hip and smiled up at him. “On the contrary, I appreciate how much you made me laugh. After all those hours stuck in boring meetings, I needed that.” 

“I’m glad you find my pain so amusing,” Nezumi said, and glanced downward at his crotch. “Ugh. God. It looks _deflated._ I can’t believe I did this for you.” 

“Want me to kiss it better?” 

“I’ll take a rain check on that. I’m in too much pain to enjoy it at the moment.” 

Shion stood back up and belatedly gave Nezumi their customary “I’m home” kiss on the mouth, laughing still into Nezumi’s exasperated frown. “I love you. Thank you for making dinner, and for such a thoughtful and well-wrapped present. Go upstairs and get dressed, I’ll reheat our food.” 

Stretching out his long legs, Nezumi wobbled into a shaky stand, leaning against Shion for balance. “I’m too sore to walk. Carry me,” Nezumi demanded. 

“No way, you big baby. You’re heavy. Get over it, you’ll be fine.” 

“Dictator,” Nezumi spat as he staggered, bow-legged, out of the kitchen and up the stairs. 

_“Dick_ tator.” 

“Fuck right off, Shion.” 

Nezumi dressed himself while Shion reheated the soup and bread, and with the help of some candles scavenged from the emergency preparedness supplies in the pantry, they had their romantic dinner after all. Shion did most of the cleanup because Nezumi, for all his theatrics, did seem to genuinely have trouble walking and standing. Shion still laughed at him the whole shambling way to the bedroom. 

Nezumi laid flat on his back in bed with his legs splayed out to avoid further injury to his damaged goods. Shion curled at his side, half on his chest, one of Nezumi’s arms wrapped around his back and the other crooked at the elbow with Nezumi’s fingers threading slowly through his hair. And it was late, and he was tired, and he had work again in the morning, but there was nowhere in the world he would rather be. 

“Sorry for earlier,” Nezumi said, very quiet, breaking the comfortable silence of settling in for sleep. 

“Why are you apologizing?” Shion asked. He pressed his nose into the soft underside of Nezumi’s jaw and kissed his smile into the warm skin there. “Dinner was wonderful.” 

“You know what I’m apologizing for, jerk. My whole stupid seduction failure. Ruining the mood, etcetera.” 

Shion kissed his neck again, and again, and Nezumi trembled every time. “I didn’t mind. It was funny. I love you.” Nezumi still frowned, so Shion said, “Nezumi, it’s really okay. I don’t need anything special for my birthday. All I wanted all day was to be with you and end the night just like this. That’s all I ever want.” 

“That’s all I wanted, too,” Nezumi admitted in that soft, barely-there voice reserved for Shion alone. “I wish you’d stayed home today and told the rest of the Committee to fuck off.” 

“I wish, but you know why I couldn’t.” 

“I know.” Nezumi stroked his hand down the back of Shion’s head to his nape and met with his scar, following its winding path down Shion’s back through the fabric of his shirt on memory alone, memorized through years of careful study with his hands and lips and heart. “It’s just that...since I came back, this has been the one day I never had to spend alone.” 

_You’re so needy,_ Shion thought, but didn’t dare say aloud because Nezumi would misunderstand. _I’m so glad that you let yourself want affection. I’m so glad you’re so honest with your needs._ He tightened his hold across Nezumi’s chest, trying to reassure him, keep him grounded. “I love you,” Shion said again, because he never tired of saying it, “I won’t leave you alone. I won’t leave you.” 

“I know.” He sighed, a conscious action, pushing some of that old, stubborn fear out his mouth with the breath from his lungs. “I know. It’s still hard.” 

Shion nuzzled into his throat and coaxed his lips down into a kiss, meandering and unhurried. He tasted still like the wine and cherry cake from dinner. “You’re still the best birthday gift I’ve ever received. That’s a tough act to follow.” 

“Hell of a lot better than my gift to you this year.” 

“Your deflated dick?” 

Nezumi glowered. “The gift of abstinence,” he said, “For however long it takes for this grievous injury to heal.” 

“That’s hardly fair. You have hands. And a mouth.” 

“So you expect me to give and not receive anything in return? How selfish.” 

“Awfully stingy of you, Mr. Scrooge,” Shion said lightly, “And again, it’s your own fault.” 

_“Dick_ ens,” Nezumi mumbled. Shion couldn’t help it: he laughed, and Nezumi’s practiced scowl broke as he broke into laughter too. “I love your laugh,” he said, kissing the corner of Shion’s smile, “I love you.” 

Shion melted closer into him and shivered. “Say it again.” 

Nezumi brushed his lips light against Shion’s ear. “I love you, Shion,” he murmured, the quiet honesty in his voice washing over Shion in another full-body tremor. No matter how many times Nezumi told him – in such plain words, in his actions, in the familiar storm of his quicksilver eyes – Shion would never tire of it. “Get some sleep.” 

And they did.


End file.
